Three Deadly Rules
by Lix9799
Summary: In a time of the rule of the Demons, interaction between humans and demons can be punishable by death. An innocent, but mentally-unprepared, girl is here to discover the weight to her life; "I must have a purpose," she begged.
1. Prologue

_This is the prologue to a story that I'm hoping to be able to continue to write. I know it's a terrible time to start writing a story: with everything coming up in these next few months, but please bear with me._

_I don't recognize anything that you guys might recognize._

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><p><strong>Three Deadly Rules<strong>

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There had been a time when, far before my great-grandparents, let alone I, could remember, when a delicate balance had been established. This was before the looming threat of extinction of pureblood became a devastating dilemma for the remaining, who realized in a jolt what danger the race was in. And the sudden clash between the stubborn inferior beings and those who have always ruled began. Men were slaughtered, children were sold into slavery, and women were captured and never heard of again. Blood ran freely and screams danced around the air. This was known to us as the Forbidden War, which marked the time since when everything had changed. But I never knew what these things had changed from: I only continue to live life as I have always known it to be.

My mother, who had not been alive for the conflict herself, still insisted on telling me stories. Father claimed that such tales were too scary for children such as me and Shouta, who were just nearing the age of a decade. As it happens in Mother's story, a formal decree was sent out from the victors' castle mere hours after the surrender of the humans had been announced. Men were limping around, and those without legs were crawling and writhing about on the streets, as the remains of the homes and armies were gathered quietly. Wives, having just barely reunited with their husbands, were collapsing from fatigue, as the men had gone to fight, leaving all of the work at home and in the villages to the women. I used to curl up against Shouta at the sight of this, always imagining Mother, fainting away in Father's arms, and Father, missing his left arm and blood spattered thoroughly over this garb, struggling to support himself and Mother. Both of them, with fear imminent in their eyes. Thankfully, this was all a terrible fantasy that seemed so far away from the bland life that I enjoyed with my small family of four.

This piece of life is one that I wish I had cherished fully. They say that as pathetic humans, we can only realize how much something means to us after it is gone. This happiness was all before I was taught in the arts of surviving excruciating pain and blistering hunger. This bittersweet period of time was when I had known an emotion; an emotion that my life so clearly lacks now.

This was all before the decree had been violated-by my parents themselves: oh, the betrayal, I cannot describe at all how much it had stung. They had been slaughtered and hung around the outskirts of the camp for all of the pathetic, filthy humans to see. And on their clothes, written in their own blood, was the cursed word: "ningen". Their legs dangled, forever moving, from the highest branch that could withstand the limp weight of them both; merely watching their feet swing from left to right, parallel to the other, in a constant pattern: it made me vomit uncountable times. Shouta left-or shall I say, escaped-not far after this incident, and I heard, from an old travelling man who had visited our camp after escaping on foot from his own, that Shouta had become a rice merchant at the neighboring camps and was making it on rather decently on his own. He was to be betrothed to the pretty young daughter of the village chief. This brought relief to my mind, but also a painful jolt of jealousy. And this stinging envy is one that I must keep stowed away in my heart, lest it might eventually devour my mind completely.

Eventually, the pain rotted, as my parents' corpses had, and only then was it given a lock on its casket and buried. The night after the poorly attended funeral service of my parents, I had bathed myself in the small pond bordering the forbidden forest grounds on the coldest night of winter, biting my shivering teeth as I swore on my own-taking a drop of blood from my palm as oath-that I could never be hurt ever again by the unyielding and tyrannical laws of our oppressors. The jagged scar, in the ironic shape of the moon, remains yet in my hand, pink and raw to this day. And even after this performance, and the constant vowing to move on, still the image of my parents' corpses, hanging loosely from a bloodied rope on the tallest oak of the camp, stays deeply ingrained in my mind, as does an unwavering hatred for the rulers of our land. All of these events remains a warning, from the ruling demons perhaps, that any that violators the decree will be slaughtered, even demons themselves.

The people of my own camp, who have kept me hidden all of these years-the child of a violator is considered a violator of the decree themselves-have begun to show signs of aloofness. They know that my heart is hardened; I am no longer the dimwitted, laughing girl that came to buy milk from the shop every morning at the first rooster's crow. I am now the girl who has been damaged so badly that no one, nothing, can repair the scars that marr my heart and ruin my disposition.

Sometimes-yes, I am hesitant to admit this-when I have nowhere else to channel my emotions, I find them rushing off towards my parents. A small hatred for the betrayal and the lies that they had fed to me for years, and I am immediately ashamed at myself for ever feeling this way to my wronged parents. It is no longer appropriate that I address these two people as my parents, however: a fact that the putrid-smelling slaughterer of my parents-yes, a dragon demon with teeth as yellow as straw-had revealed to me as Shouta and I were rounded up and threatened. An orphan, they spat at me, malicious eyes flashing, but they said nothing about Shouta. I have come to believe that Shouta, who shared the sleek hair of our parents and the startling green eyes of Mother must have truly been theirs. But me, on the other hand, oddly staring with my dark brown eyes and wildly bushy hair-it only makes sense that I had been picked up from a neighboring camp as my parents fled from their pursuers. But I bear them no bitterness for this; it is rather the fact that they had never truly loved each other that leaves in me a feeling of having been wronged: they remained by each other's sides merely as protection, putting on a fake show of love, the only facade that could cover up the treachery and lies they had woven so tightly before my arrival.

I should have suspected, now that I remember it, that when I had found Father in the forest clearing with the beautiful demoness, that it was not happenstance that this meeting had occurred in the forbidden areas of the camp. Nor was it merely chance that this meeting was one that had been planned to fall perfectly on the day that the camp guards had been given a break from duty, and the day that Shouta and I were being taken to the physician for our yearly check-up with Mother. And the beautiful demoness: she had regarded me with curiosity, a sort of disbelief that someone as small and naive as I was living in such a wretched place. Her beauty, was a stunning as the sunset itself. And the demon that Mother had invited to our house a few times: a tiger demon, I recall. He was handsome and strongly built, and the way he and Mother had sat so comfortably around each other, as though their company was enough to satisfy the other for life, was so puzzling to me. Shouta, on the other hand, had been too fascinated by the markings on the demon's arms and legs.

Yes, now that I truly try to remember-despite the pain of it all-it really does fit together too well. My parents and their youkai accompaniers, they were the victims of it all. Not only them, but Shouta and me, as well as our village, which has had rations cut down my one fourth since my parents' slaughter. Yes, this is the punishment of a violator.

My parents were the foremost violators of the youkai decree. They had found love with a being not of our own: they had each found love with a demon.

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><p><em>And that concludes it. Please leave any comments or criticism (don't be too mean though, I might cry lol), and I'll try to have the actual story chapters up soon. <em>

_Thanks_

_ Lily_


	2. Chapter 1: Nightmares

_Thank you to _icegirljenni_ for reviewing! _

_Don't own anything that you might recognize._

_Warning: a bit of graphic description of murder/death_

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It all started on the day Shouta had run away. The day when the numbness from all of the previous events within the last ten or so hours had finally seeped all of the strength out of my limbs and blood blotted out my vision. The day when the villagers began whispering, not the usual jovial news, but rather of the shameful and unspeakable events that had happened and now decorated the entrance to our camp.

Shouta had woken me up before the sun rose, with his green eyes cloudy. He reluctantly draped his old rag over his shoulders and told me that he was only going to step out to do some laundry. Had I been in a better state, I would have noticed something wrong already, but my ears were ringing and my eyes were blurred; what a terrible sister I must have been, to just let him leave, and not say any word of farewell or beg him to stay. The final look of longing, interspersed with terror, that clenched his face as he hunched over to step outside of the low doorpost is one that remains to me this day.

Three days, the villagers scowl. They claim that I had slept and cried and mourned and wet myself for three days. Three days-the time that it took for me to come to realisation that my parents were gone and my brother had left me to fend for myself as the daughter of two violators of the Demon decree. I remember, walking outside in my soiled clothing, the lady who usually sold eggs in the morning had ducked away from me, shooting me a furtive glance as though I was a traitor of some sort. I had been too numb to take this action into account, and I blundered through the village, tripping over rocks and dirt as the pebbles scratched the bottoms of my feet raw. It was dead in the middle of winter, though I wore the small haori that Mother had sewn for me when I reached my seventh year and nothing else. The iciness reached my nerves, but nothing at all could tame the flaming within my heart.

And that night, I had trudged back to the village spring, diving directly into the frozen ice on top of the water surface, cutting away at the flesh on my arms and cheeks. The pain was nearly negligible; the cold was barely recognized. There was blood on my hands that I could not wash off-I scrubbed and scratched and dug into my palms, trying to remove the blood of my parents from my body, but I only succeeded in mixing my own blood with theirs. My blood, which had no relation with theirs, what was it doing, trickling softly down my palm? It was then when, carving directly into the center of my palm the image of the sickle-shaped moon that glared above the water, I had made the decision. I would live on and avenge all of the misdeeds that had been done to me. My parents, who themselves were shameless in their violation of the decree, and the demons, who viciously slaughtered without reason, would be the subjects of my revenge. I could see the terrified eyes: oh, revenge, how sweetly it devoured away at the hearts of those who were once innocent. Those who had taken from me the normal life that all humans, no matter how poor or stupid, deserved, I would take from them everything that they had left, be it power, peace, life, or, most importantly, love. After all, they had taken from my innocent heart, the love that I had once known.

And this is the vow that I live by. Day by day, for three years, this cause gnawed away at the remains of my withered, leathered heart. Those three years were the Hell of my life, which already had sunken to the average humans' Hell: those mute, starving, decrepit three years of my life were the Hell of all Hells.

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I woke up this morning at the first call of a rooster, downed a glass of tepid milk that was delivered to me by the kind old lady Kaede and stole an egg from the neighbors' farm. The chickens were surprisingly dumb, never able to predict the time that I would sneak behind the smelly, rickety fence and just pluck one of their eggs from under their stomachs. They don't seem to care much that I've just come and taken their children from them; reminds me rather of the demons' despicable indifference when it comes to the slaughtering of their own children hanyou.

The villagers have come around to accept me, slowly as the years have gone on, as I bring in wild animals from the forest and watch over the houses I happen to be loafing around for any bandits and robbers. I wouldn't say that they are particularly fond of having a scarred girl, hardly older than fifteen years, scavenging the streets for food and hauling around bloodied squirrels and the like to trade for arrows and knives. But then again, they haven't done anything to remove old Asou, who blubbers and foams at the mouth whenever people walk by or ask him about his opinion for the weather, and I must hope that my company is a little more desired than his.

Nevertheless, the other teenage girls of the village have just started, most of them, their transition into the so-called "womanhood". They paint their faces white and gawk at the farms everyday, in hopes of catching the eye of the man that manages to haul the most wheat in every evening. They smear their lips red and talk of nothing but puberty, marriage, and true love, and while I'm sure they do not enjoy the company of a filthy, orphan girl, it would be nice if they realized that they were not so pleasant to be around either. The shop had been more pleasant a year or two ago, when the girls that hung around had not been the very girls I had grown up chasing butterflies with. It just so happens that every time I see Maya or Midori hanging around the shops, I'm reminded of the life that every girl is expected to have. It does not help that the pitying looks that I attract from my friends are also given to me by Kohaku, the very purpose of my living. But I will get to that later, when time comes appropriate.

Every morning, on the way to the farms, I pass by Michiko, who had been, and would have still been, my best friend, before the incident. Now, she, having grown into a beauty that makes even married women jealous, has begun to ignore my greeting as I walk by her house, which is also one of the largest of the village, since her father is the head of the farming grounds. She casually saunters by, as though she has much more to be attending to-yes, this has become our daily routine-but I still wave to her, in hopes that she will overcome herself and remember that it is me, the girl that once saved her from the river when she had fallen in while trying to catch a small white koi fish.

Today is the announcement of Kohaku's engagement to Michiko. Of course, this arrangement was known throughout the camp long ago, but today it is to be set in stone, never to be changed. I was not invited to the hearing, as I am never invited to public events-such a dirty person seen in the village is not flattering to the villagers at all-but I shall go anyways. Kohaku knows that I will be attending, and he asked to speak with me this morning. I am reluctant to go, because it will mean that I will have to say farewell to him forever. I have considered travelling to the neighboring villages to find Shouta, who must be nearing the date of his own marriage to this supposedly beautiful village chief daughter.

I make my way into the clearing, heading directly to the weapon shop, where Kohaku's sister Sango makes her living. She waves at me, smiling as usual, but something is amiss in her smile, and this only makes me more curious when she quickly ducks away to polish the remainder of the guns. She mumbles that Kohaku will be down soon, and I thank her.

"He should be here soon, Rin." Sango rubs her hands on her apron. "Wait a while; have something to drink."

Kohaku does not appear for another half hour, and I ask Sango to tell Kohaku that I will be back after lunch. I cannot let the morning go by-all of the birds in the forest will have woken if I wait any longer. Sango tosses me my bow and arrows and wishes me luck. I fasten the arrow quiver around my shoulders and shrug on my dark green haori-it is my only mechanism of camouflage. It will not be much help when autumn is approaching and the leaves are turning auburn, but it cannot hurt to have extra layers on.

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The forest is the only place where the rustle of the village cannot disturb. It is calm and the only noise is the occasional squeak of a startled thrush or the scream of a victim of a wild group of bandits. I have been particularly adept at avoiding any bandit groups that have come to the forest, and find that the stupid bandits are often quite good at leaving usable supplies behind in their camps. I have found a wild assortment of things, ranging from food to weapons to a woman's undergarments.

The foliage is soft under my feet, and the air is cool. I make a quick shot of a squirrel and two birds, one of which has been marred so badly by the arrow that it is hard to recognize as a sparrow. I curse myself; I have seen archers shoot birds so perfectly that not a single feather is bloodied or ruffled when they are turned in for trade. This bird is one that I will have to keep for myself, for even Sango would not be so dumb or kind to trade weapons for a gnarled mass of feathers and blood.

I wander down the well-worn trail for a little more, aware that every step taken means another step required to go home.

The birds are awfully cheerful today. I catch sight of a sparrow, hardly larger than my fist, pecking around for seeds. I am tempted to shoot, but the meager meat on the bird can hardly compensate for the cost of a harmless, innocent life.

There is a high pitched shriek, followed by guffawing of laughter and brutish clubbing noises. The sparrow darts off.

It is obvious that some wild gang of bandits has re-entered the forest, and taken victim a girl from our camp. They cannot be more than a twenty yards away, and if I can climb a tree and get a decent aim, I may be able to spare the life of the victim. Perhaps I can even make good use and receive an award from her panicked parents.

I quickly climb up the nearest tree, stopping in terror as my foot slips and breaks off a branch. The branch plummets to the ground.

The thugs are too loud to listen around to nearby noises, for this large distraction surely could have given away my position. I am a good thirty feet off the ground, and I can take aim at the first bandit, who is holding a poor girl, not more than ten years old, around her neck and a knife blade against her skin. The others are torturing her in the most disgusting and vile manners. The leader, the one holding the girl, has the most malicious eyes I have ever seen: wild, blood-shot, hungry for murder.

They remind me of the eyes of the demons.

I quickly shoot at the man who holds the girl captive, silently cheering as the arrow hits its mark at the jugular vein, but the girl's cries have dribbled into a gurgling wail. And soon, the wail itself dies into a silent trickle of blood from her throat.

The other bandits jump back, shouting obscenities at each other, and one of them, spattered with the girl's blood, tosses her body against a tree.

The blood from the girl's neck pools around her.

_The blood_

My mother's blood, father's blood, dripping from their fingertips, their toes

_too vivid..._

and the girl hangs limply from the man's arms, her feet dangling...

_DRIP-drop_

...dangling, parallel to the ground

and her blood drips steadily to the mossy floor

_DRIP-drop_

My mind seizes up, and so do my limbs-the rushing of blood to my ears! I can't hear a thing; the wind no longer whistles past my face. The boiling in my veins!

I slip from the branch and grab desperately at the tree trunk as I fall, stabbing splinters of bark into my hands.

A hard jolt as I hit the forest ground, my left leg does not move. There is blood on my hands

_TOO MUCH blood on my hands; WHOSE BLOOD IS THIS, I SCREAM_

and I cover my face to avoid the yellowing teeth of the bandits as they smile upon the pathetic squirming of their new prey.

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It is far past noon when I open my eyes, only to shut them again when the sun squeezes through my eyelids. Somebody has bandaged my hands with a beautifully embroidered cloth-I am devastated to know that it is my blood that has soiled such a finely crafted cloth. I have been moved into the shade, and my leg, which is still numb and swollen, has healed to a certain degree-I must be thankful that I can, at least, support myself with it. And my arrows have been returned to their quiver. The bow lies not far from my left hand.

My body has left an imprint in the forest floor moss, and this serves as a reminder that I must hurry back to the village. I wonder if the bandits have been killed, or whether they have gone back to their vile ways of pillaging the villages and destroying innocence. I do not have far to walk before I recognize the corpses of the bandits, mutilated almost beyond recognition. I want to vomit.

Walking is still painful, and most of the weight is shifted onto my right leg and my bow, which I use as a walking crane. Each shift in balance opens up the wound on my side-I have no idea how it got there-and soon I can feel blood dripping down the left side of my haori. Thank goodness I chose to cover myself with the dark green one today, rather than only wearing the white haori. I am dizzy, probably due to the loss of blood, but I have to make it home soon. Kohaku must have returned already, and must wonder where I am. The squirrel and sparrows will rot if I do not hurry back quickly.

I try to break into a run-a rather pathetic one. Something grabs my arm with unimaginable force and launches off of the ground with neck-breaking speed. Blood rushes from my head again, and I am back to being dizzy, incapacitated to comprehend anything that is happening at the moment. It is only when I catch a glimpse of silver hair in my face that reality dawns upon me.

_A demon._

I struggle, beating my hands against the cold metal armor that the demon wears. The spikes on the armor punctures the bandages, and the demon impatiently grabs my hand, pinning it against my chest. Blood from my hand soils his clothing. I try to scream, but the air does not flow into my lungs.

"Stop that." His voice is venomous.

The demon lands on the topmost branch of a sturdy oak tree and only then can I see his real features. His eyes are beautiful, is the only thought that comes to my mind, even as I try to force myself to hate. He wears delicate white robes, which complement his long silver hair and intense, golden eyes. He slowly puts me down-too slow for my distaste, as all demons are supposed to be rough and hasty when snatching off women. I clutch the tree trunk and force myself from looking down. Heights are not my strong point, especially when my head is already swimming from loss of blood. I scream at him to let me down, and he only narrows his eyes.

I am distracted by the moon on his forehead, a pale purple marking. It matches the scar on my hand.

He asks me my name, to which I do not reply. I cannot give him any information about myself-that is much too dangerous-and who knows who can be watching right now, the Patrol demons, who are assigned the responsibility to slaughter those who harbor clandestine meetings with beings of the other race? I must try to leave as soon as possible, without making any noise. If we are caught, it will be my corpse that shall be delivered to the village this time.

"I-I would l-like to go d-down now," I stammer, pathetically. The heights are really making me dizzy, and so are the demon's beautiful, golden eyes. The color of his eyes is so warm, but the emotion is as hard as flint. The demon turns away, and sits on the branch. I inadvertently move a little closer to the trunk.

It is then when I realize that the cloth of his beautiful haori matches those of the rags that wrap my hands and cover my leg. To think that I, the one who would jump at the opportunity of slaying a demon, had been saved by one. And now, I was rendered a complete idiot.

"Did you-"

He turns, so that I can only catch a flash of his golden eyes, and the next thing I know, I am pressed against the tree trunk, and his hard armor flashing in the sun. He holds his deadly claws mere inches from my neck, poised to strike. The blood is rushing to my forehead again, and this time, I truly am in danger of fainting.

He lowers his head, slowly, and to my utmost horror, he brings his face near mine. "I do not repeat myself often. What is your name?"

The claws draw a curve in the air.

He glares into my eyes. "But even I can make exceptions."

I turn away.

"What is your name?"

The proximity is toxic to my nerves. I struggle against him, this time kicking against his strong legs, which do not waver. I spit in his face, threatening to scream. He steps down, a strange emotion in his eyes that I cannot understand, allows me some room, suddenly turning his head to face something below and behind me. This, the sudden movement and spurting of fresh, boiling blood on my face is all that I remember before my eyes close.

_I cannot be seen. I cannot be seen. I cannot be seen. _

_I cannot be seen with this man. _

_I cannot fall victim... to the ... _

_three deadly rules..._

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_So proud of myself! I finished another chapter within 24 hours! I was pretty excited to get this up, so if there are any problems or complaints, please review._

_Thanks_

_Lily_


	3. Chapter 2: Can You Hear Me Sing

_Thank you to _icegirljenni, Taraah36_ for reviewing!_

_Don't own anything that you might recognize._

_Warning: tons of Kohaku and Rin background, but I felt like it would set up for the rest of the story. Sesshoumaru makes an appearance! Yay!_

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As soon I wake up, I yelp, seeing the demon's eyes: warm, glowing, flickering. It is only when I hear the frantic footsteps pounding on the wooden floor and Sango bursting into the room that I realize that I am in the village again. The lights are lanterns which have been hung up on the ceiling. I look down to my arms and my hands, holding them close to my face-there is no blood. My hands are healed completely; there are no cuts or bruises, no bandages that wrap my palm, only the permanent moon scar that has been present for nearly four years. _The moon scar. _My heart pounds as the familiar face rushes into my head again.

_I have violated my vow._

My temple pounds.

_ I have seen a demon which I did not kill. _

Feverish, I stand up, frantically searching for my things. _ I must kill it, I must kill it. _

My leg no longer hurts; everything has completely healed. I shake my leg around a few times, trying to rid myself of the numbness seeping into the veins. Sango kneels down beside the bed and changes the sweaty cloth on my head for a fresh one, pushing me down as I struggle to reach the door. My arrows are propped up against the wall. I count them; every single arrow that I had last purchased from Sango is still there.

"W-what happened-" I recoil when Sango offers me a hot cup of medicine. She scowls at my reaction and forces the scalding cup into my hands.

"You were found in the forest this morning, only a few yards from the clearing." Sango turned her head away, busying her hands with the fabric of her skirt.

_A few yards from the clearing-_this is impossible.

I had travelled much further from the clearing, almost reaching the sunken riverbed, which would have taken nearly an hour to walk back to the village on foot. There was also no way that my wounds could have cleared themselves so quickly.

"You were found by the villagers," Sango spoke. "It is thought that you were attacked and choked by bandits." She paused and felt for my temperature.

I pushed her hand away.

Sango peered into my eyes. "They thought it was strange that you were found with no wounds."

_No wounds_-were they mistaken?

There was no way they could have not seen the blood on my body. My leg had been broken and my left side had been punctured through with a particularly sharp tree branch. My hands had been bleeding so badly...

Sango placed the wet wash rag on my forehead again and quickly stood up. She handed me my arrows and nodded to the pile of books and pencils by the corner. "Keep yourself busy, and make sure to rest. Also, Kaede brought you some milk again," she said, before stiffly walking out of the room.

As always, I am thankful for Kaede. The books are brand new and the pencils are freshly sharpened; I wonder how many weapons Sango had to trade for them.

Everything has returned back to normal. Sango is here, the village is resting, and life goes on. _I must have been having nightmares again_. It is nearing winter time, and winter is my renowned season of terror.

Stretching, I'm glad that everything was just a dream. Perhaps I had fainted of heat stroke or something along those lines soon after I left the camp clearing-it had been awfully stupid of me to go out hunting while wearing so many layers of clothing. Also, I could not fathom how much pain I must have been in if I truly had received all of those wounds I dreamt of, since I could not have felt any better than I did currently. _Plus, _I console myself, _had I truly met a demon, I would not be here at the moment. _I sat up and shifted all of my weight onto my left leg, reaching for the bottle of milk.

The milk is tepid, like it always is.

Tepid, like my most recent nightmare.

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I passed Kohaku when I left Sango's house today.

His eyes caught mine for a fleeting second, but he quickly hurried away.

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"_Rin!" _

_My faithful wake up alarm._

"_Wake up, sleepy midget!"_

_I stretch from my spot in the tree, almost (purposefully) dropping my blanket on that ignorant brat's head. _

_Kohaku runs up to my tree every morning at the same time, carrying things that Sango sends him over with. Today it is a bento box._

_The sun blinks its rays, barely peeking over the outcrop of the hill. The sky is dashed with smoky grey, and the roosters begin to stir._

_I wave at him, jumping down from my warm spot in the tree and accepting the warm breakfast, as I always do. There is a quick exchange of greetings, and he invites me to go hunting with him, as he always does._

_Most days, I will decline this offer, knowing full well that I will only serve to slow him down, but this day, there is something I need to tell him._

_And I feel like, just seeing the look in his eyes, there is something he needs to tell me as well._

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There was a new decree posted in the clearing this morning. It was written in beautiful calligraphy and took me a while to decipher. In fact, I did not decipher it at all, but rather had to listen to the plump merchant's wife reading it aloud to her three children.

"To the humans: A reminder of the formal decree, signed into action by the Royal Forces after the four hundred year conflict involving the _youkai_ and _ningen._"

"Those who violate or criticize any aspect of the _youkai-ningen _split will be regarded as traitors to both beings. The punishment for the vocalization or the recording of these treacherous thoughts will be death."

"Those found on _youkai _land will be treated as a treat to the security and well-being of the society, and dealt with accordingly. The same will go for _youkai_ that happen onto _ningen_ camp territories."

"Those who create alliances, or perhaps interact, with those from the other group will be sentenced to death." It was when the merchant's wife reached this section of the third rule that she shot me a worried look. She moved her children a little further from where I was standing.

"Those who find love with the other beings will be executed immediately...

and their children will be marked as the _offspring of traitors_."

I stalked out of the clearing, well-aware of the pairs of eyes that gawked at my fuming figure.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

"_Rin, let's stop here for today."_

_I toss the squirrel down from my shoulder. Its small, warm body hits the ground with a sickening _crunch_, as my heart does._

"_I just-"_

"_It's okay, Kohaku." I swallow. You stupid fool. "We really should go."_

_I thank him, trying my hardest not to let the lump in my throat get the better of me. The gratitude is hollow, and I know he can tell, and I want him to understand that I truly am thankful, but..._

_I can't cry._

_I pick up the squirrel and turn away, trying my hardest to find my usual upright posture. Something in my chest weighs me down; something that I usually feel, beating against my rib cage. That something is now so knotted, so twisted, that it actually stings..._

_Kohaku grabs my arm desperately, pulling me back to him. He clasps me against his chest, silently begging. "I'm so sorry, Rin."_

_His hands press my head against his heart, and I hold him, clinging as though this is the last time we will see each other. It really is the last time we will see each other as we were. We hold this embrace, my heart beating against his chest, his heart beating against my ear. The forest is so quiet. The sun is so bright on our faces._

"_I'm so sorry..."_

_I feel tears on my cheek. My eyes sting, and Kohaku is crying. _

_The tears are cool against my cheek, and the sun makes them glisten._

_They are not my tears, I tell myself._

_A soft rustle in the leaves and a flash of silver-a white dove, possibly-is my only answer. _

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

Sango meets me in the usual spot, her shop under the large tree. I help her polish a few weapons and apologize for all of the inconveniences I have caused, carefully inquiring for how long I have overstayed my company.

I am relieved to learn that I was only at her house for one night.

Sango pats my head and gives me a little money. "Go buy yourself something from the shop: a new kimono, arrow, whatever."

A few footsteps and an abrupt knock sounds at the door. Kohaku walks in and tosses his weapon onto the ground, not meeting any of our eyes. The harsh clattering makes me flinch. I bow to Sango and nod to Kohaku, quickly taking my leave.

I can't help but notice Sango's eyes full of worry as I turn away.

It is bright outside, and the clearing is already bustling with people. The girls who are my age are not in their usual spot; they have moved a little closer to Sango's shop. They now stand around the poor, flustered Aito and his mother's bento shop. Michiko is among them.

"Rin!"

I stop, and force a smile. Michiko waves me over.

"Have you seen the new posting in the clearing?" She smiles. "I was just talking to them about it." Her teeth glint in the sun and her friends immediately stop their gossiping.

Michiko does not give me time to speak or run away. She continues, maliciously, "the 'offspring of traitors', huh? That seems a little harsh, but what can we do..." She taps her finger to her mouth.

I wonder what has made her suddenly take such a distaste for me. Perhaps she had seen that I had spent the night at Sango's, the sister of her betrothed? I would hope that her pathetic mind could ease itself of such a worthless and pointless jealousy.

"However...I suppose, those who cannot even control their own _desires_...

"those who cannot control their _feelings_..."

I struggle against her arm. I do not wish to hurt her, knowing full well that I could wrap my calloused around her neck easily and just _pull_...

The girls snigger in the back. One of them shoots me an apologetic look, but I ignore it. I do not need anybody's pity.

"Demons are merely just animals that have stolen our human form. They rape, they pillage, they destroy...innocent lives."

_Shut up! I do not want to hear anymore!_ I wildly flail my arm, catching Michiko against her face. Her friends gasp. My palm stings.

"Rin."

The voice is deep and unwavering.

The grip on my arm slackens, and I turn to see Kohaku, standing a few feet behind me. His eyes are furious.

Michiko turns away, wiping her hand on her kimono as if she had just touched something filthy. Kohaku steps closer, and I can see his hands shaking. He reaches out, as if to grab my hand, but stops, remembering himself. Brown eyes meet, and I look down.

I quickly run away.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Kohaku turn to chase after me.

_Stupid fool! Go back to your intended!_

My heart beats wildly against my rib cage as I tear through the shop area, desperate to avoid Kohaku. His legs are longer than mine, his body more fit for running. The only thing I can do is manuever around the shop kiosks, desperately searching for places to hide and places to disappear into.

"RIN!"

I duck beneath Kaede's milk stand, pressing my body against the wooden crates. I know that if I wait until he turns his head, I can make a quick dash for the forest.

This is exactly what I do.

As soon as he turns around, I leap out from the large crate I had been hiding behind and make a beeline for the forest edge, not caring as leaves and brambles tear at my face and arms. I do not know if he saw me, or if my wild bull-like charging caught the unwanted attention of other villagers. I prayed that Kaede would keep quiet.

_Stupid idiot._

_ Stupid._

_ Stupid._

I cannot even see where I am going, I am so blinded by rage. I just keep running, allowing for my body to tire itself out into oblivion, until I am too tired, too breathless to even care anymore. I run until the soles of my sandals have been worn down to fabric-thin coverings. There are sharp branches and brambles that have snuck into my clothing, rubbing my skin raw with each pounding step.

The forest gets only deeper; the foliage grows into a calming dark green. The birds are scattered by my approaching, and mice run away once they hear my feet clomping on the ground. It is only when I stop running and throw my body against a sturdy oak tree that I can truly appreciate the silence that has found its way into my surroundings.

Only the whistle of the wind and the dancing leaves are there to sing to me today.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

_ "Sing for me, Rin!" Shouta hopped down from a tree branch, presenting me with a pear._

_ I giggle, snatching the pear from his hands, and running off. "You know I can't sing!" _

_ Shouta lets out an indignant "hey!" and chases after me, catching me in no time. "Gimme that back!" He quickly takes the pear back and pulls me onto his back._

_ "I want to show you something."_

_ I laugh, wrapping my fingers in his soft hair. I pretend to be riding on the back of a strong pony who would never fall, never leave..._

_ He runs into the forest, not too far from the camp. We settle down on the ground, and he divides the pear evenly using his hunting knife. I get to choose which half I want. _

_ "Rin?"_

_ "Yes, onee-san?"  
>"Can you hear that?" Shouta's eyes are closed.<em>

_ I try to listen, but I hear nothing but the usual bustle of the forest._

_ "Listen carefully," Shouta whispers. "Can you hear the birds singing for you? The wind dancing for you?"_

_ I shut my eyes, allowing for all of the noise to rush into my ears. The myriad of noises attacks my senses, overwhelmingly calming. The leaves shuffle as the wind trickles through, and the birds happily chirp at one another, similar to the way Shouta and I quip. _

_ "I think of Mother and Father whenever I hear this," Shouta interrupts. "This is their song."_

_ I open my mouth to question, but the answer is already there._

_ Mother is the beautiful bird, singing her heart out for her loved ones._

_ Father is the strong, flowing wind, constantly moving, but always here._

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

When I wake, I find that there is a nasty gash on my forehead and my arms have been tied together. There is a gag in my mouth as well.

_My arrows..._ I curse myself for not bringing them. My stupidity amazes me to no end.

My capturers do not come back for a while, and I wonder how I ended up in this state without ever having woken up for a struggle. My head is groggy and my mind is not clear, I cannot remember where I am or who I am, only that I am presently in indescribable amounts of pain and the blood is beginning to dribble into my gagged mouth.

I cannot stress how much I hate the taste of rusted iron.

It is already nearing supper time, and Sango is probably wondering where I am. I cannot go back though, obviously, for two reasons: I cannot move at the present, and Kohaku would probably murder me the second I set foot back into his sight. I would rather be paralyzed rather than strangled and then displayed above a fireplace by my first ever love, I think bitterly to myself. I suppose that the rhetoric of sarcasm comes back in the bleakest and least hopeful of moments.

This is all that I have time to think about before I hear an annoyed grunt, "hey, the runt is awake again," and another blow to my head that sinks me back into darkness.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

The Lord of the Western Lands was a very busy man.

_Or rather, _he mused, _a rather busy demon._

Such slips of the mouth could earn anybody, even him, a death sentence by his own executioners.

Lord Sesshoumaru sat at his beautiful desk, papers filed neatly into the drawers by his countless secretaries. There was a new batch of papers that had been laid down by Jakken, his faithful vassal, earlier this morning that he had been told needed his reviewing.

The first paper was a letter from a wealthy demon with a beautiful daughter. He knew exactly what the letter would be like, having read too many of the same kind. He shredded it with his claws.

Flipping through the remainder of the stack, he separated the papers into piles that needed reviewing and piles that could be looked at later. It was when he came upon the fourteenth slip of paper within the stack that his blood ran cold.

A list of people who had been found on demon territories. Lord Sesshoumaru had not seen one of these elegant blood-red Death-lists in uncountable years. These papers were saved for those who were to be executed or sentenced to life in prison.

There was a single picture and name on the paper, one that had struck him harder than any blow he had ever encountered.

The name was written in elegant script, and just below was a picture of the girl, one he had seen before..._many, many times._ The name he did not recognize, but the face was one he could never forget.

It brought back brutal memories from his second most recent border patrol. The crying girl in the forest and her friend, the passionate embrace he had witnessed. This was his first encounter with the humans in nearly six decades. It was a permanent reminder of the lives humans led: controlled by emotion, controlled by the tide of the environment.

The two humans had been dressed in clothes almost akin to rags, the girl a little more shabby than the boy. She had a delicate face, but one marred with scars and suffering. Her eyes were tinged with red, but her jaw was locked; she was swallowing her words and her tears. The Lord could sense her pain as she clung to the boy-the boy who was to leave her for another girl.

It was the first time in years that the Lord of the Western Lands, Lord Sesshoumaru, had felt a small tug somewhere deep in his chest.

The small girl had looked up, catching sight of him for mere milliseconds, before the Lord remembered his place. He had vanished, but the image of the crying human girl did not.

Lord Sesshoumaru stared at the paper in his hand. The picture of the girl was almost identical to that of the girl he had seen in the forest: the pain, the large brown eyes, and the jagged scar just beside her left eye.

"Miko." The Lord called for his maid.

"Go tell Jakken to arrange my visit to the prison grounds." The small fox demon looked up in surprise.

The Lord tucked the blood-red paper into his haori.

"I have very important _business_ that I must attend to."

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

_I made a few minor edits to my Chapter 2 (after reading some of the reviews and realizing that I made some mistakes-this is why I love having people review!) _

_I suppose I have to say that, despite the number of stories I seem to have written, I am still pretty new to all of the stuff on this website. If any of you could send me a message suggesting beta-readers, that would be much appreciated! :D_

_I still can't decide whether I should keep this story all first-person from Rin's POV, or if I should include a few sections from Sesshoumaru's POV as well. I tried experimenting a little with that (as you guys can see in the last section), and I feel like it would add to the motion of the plot to have two points of views from our two main characters._

_I apologize for the time it took me to update (I suddenly had the urge to write today, and basically sat down and wrote this entire chapter). And I'm also sorry for the slowness of the plot so far-it should be picking up pretty quickly soon! (Also, for all of the Kohaku/Rin background, if it seemed to cheesy, please let me knowwwwwwww...I'm so bad at writing drama)_

_Please read and review; it really encourages me to write more! _

_Thanks_

_Lily_


	4. Chapter 3: Why

_Don't own anything you might recognize._

_Special thanks to_ Freya's Valhalla_ (tee hee nice username), _icegirljenni_, _IlyanaBliss_, and _Taraah36_ for reviewing! You guys really motivate me to write more :D_

_Note: Those with queasy stomachs may want to stay away! (Attempted murder/rape, blood, possible OOC of Sesshoumaru)_

_Akuryo-o: "demon king"; he is the ruler of all of the demons, even ruling over the four Lords of the lands; in a sense, he is the ruler of the world at this time. Definitely not one to cross or mess with, right Sesshoumaru?_

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The Lord Sesshoumaru had taken care of all of the meetings with various lords who had proposed allegiances in hopes of gaining land or wealth. The day proceeded as usual, but with every movement, every intake of breath, he felt the death-sentence paper shift against his chest.

Jakken came into the Lord's room, "milord, the Lady would like to speak to you about," the toad-demon coughed, "some prospective lady-demons she has found for you."

"The Lord of the Western Lands has no time for such things at the moment." The Lord flicked a dismissive hand. "Did you do what I ordered you to do earlier?"

"Ah...Ah?" Jakken stammered.

"The meeting with the prison guards."

"Ah, yes, that!" Jakken fidgeted his hands around the handle of his staff. "Eh...The guards told me, very rudely, I must add," Jakken shook his head indignantly, "that you must speak to the Akuryo-o to gain permission to enter the prison grounds."

The Lord narrowed his eyes.

_The Akuryo-o?_

"And... the Akuryo-o does not often accept visitors, even as elegant and powerful as you, milord, for such small requests."

"I see." Lord Sesshoumaru took the red paper from his haori and unfolded it roughly on his desk. "Thank you, Jakken."

The toad-demon nearly stumbled over himself, tripping over his master's praise. "Oh, my Lord is too kind to his lowly servant!" Jakken blubbered.

"A-also, miLord, the Lady has scheduled another blind date for you tonight..." The kappa made sure to back away a few steps as he spoke.

"The girl's name is Kanna. She is the daughter of the Lord of the Southern Lands, Lord Naraku."

Jakken gulped when he saw the expression on his Lord's face.

"Get out."

As soon as the toad had left, the Lord crumpled up the sheet of paper and threw it into his magnificent fireplace.

_She is only a human anyways._

The fire blazed a little higher.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

Life in the prison grounds is even more miserable than life back in the village. The guards are rough bear-demons, and the food that they bring to me is hardly edible. I am the only prisoner, the only one stupid enough to trespass on the demon land, according to the blundering guards. They are amazed at my impudence and often take every opportunity to remind me that they can kill me with a single swipe of their hands.

_Beasts._

Today, breakfast consisted of a canteen of water and a practically-raw fish. I want to remind the guards that I am not a demon and cannot stomach raw meats, let alone disgusting raw fish, but any complaints will probably bring on another round of beating and yelling by my stupid brute captors.

_Disgusting._

My execution is settled for two days from this sunrise. I am allowed no "trial" or visitors until the day of my scheduled execution. And the chances that I will be pardoned from my death sentence, or at least given time to prepare, are less than the chances of me ever falling in love with a disgusting demon. My captors know this, and make sure that I know this very clearly as well.

_Bastards._

I cannot help praying that Kohaku will come save me, as he always he will come and rip off the heads of those idiots. _Stupid, he has Michiko to take care of now. _Still, I can't help but _hope_...

Shouta, maybe?

I scoff, the rancidity of tears already beginning to tingle on my tongue.

I still cannot believe that I am to die by the hands of the demons. The Fates have a horrible sense of humor.

The day passes as it usually does: I am let out between meals to 'relieve' myself, and after dinner, I am allowed to wander outside under the watch of the two guards. My room is stuffy, and I am the only one in the prison grounds, so there is no way to entertain myself except by planning my revenge on my stupid captors. Nor is any of my planning looking to be very hopeful. There is a small window in my room, and often I will be joined by a lonely bird that floats in to sing. This bird is not one that I recognize: it has an ornate feather pattern consisting of blues and greens, and a blunt beak. I have a sinking feeling that my strange friend has some demon blood.

This bird comes to the window to chirp at the same time every morning. Its song is very beautiful, reminding me painfully of Sango's song that she used to sing to Shouta, Kohaku, and I back then. Michiko sometimes came to listen as well, but her parents did not usually let her come play with our "rowdy lot".

I sigh, annoyance rising when I see one of the guards turn around to see if I am "trying anything stupid again". Perhaps this is another nightmare, I laugh bitterly to myself, maybe if I just go to sleep, I'll wake up at the forest clearing again, fully healed and under Sango's care.

This train of thought soon leads me to remember the demon in my last nightmare.

This demon was the second demon that I had ever exchanged words with. The first was the tiger demon. But, for some reason, talking to this demon was much more... terrifying.

Perhaps 'terrifying' was not the word I was looking for. I was not actually terrified by the demon himself, only by the fact that I was betraying everything I lived for by being in its presence. I still must kill the demon, even now. After all, he was the one who started it.

He was the one who found me.

I still cannot get out of my mind his penetrating eyes.

And the blood, warm on my face before everything in my nightmare disappeared.

_Whose blood was it?_

Visions repeat themselves. The blood from Mother's feet, forming a small puddle beneath her dangling body... the blood spouting from the little girl's neck ... the blood... _blood..._

I slap my hand to my forehead, suddenly feeling my body seize. My head pounds so hard that my eardrums seem to burst, and my vision fades from normal to a bloody crimson. I am reduced to a whimpering, blubbering fool.

_Stop, stop..._

When the guards come in to check on me, they find me curled into a ball, rocking on my knees and cradling my head in my hands. They scoff, mention something about a possibly-visiting Lord and how I should regain my sanity before any people see me, and step outside again.

_I must escape._

Tonight.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

After dinner, when the guards take me outside to relieve myself, I ask if I can go bathe. After much persuading and begging, they reluctantly follow me to the nearest spring, which is not far from the prison grounds, and turn away as soon as I shoot them a searing look. I toss a few rocks into the spring, making it sound as though I had jumped in, and quickly run back to the prison grounds.

There is a warehouse, not far from where I had been kept. The door is locked, but the windows are not closed, and, after climbing up the nearby tree, I can just barely squeeze into the high windows.

I hit the dirt ground of the warehouse with a _thud_, pain shooting up my left leg. _Shake it off, shake it off. _ I know I only have a matter of minutes, before the guards, perverse or not, go check on me and my supposed bathing. They are fast and strong, and an encounter with them would probably result in my being knocked unconscious until the day of my execution. I must act quickly if I want to survive. And, needless to say, I must survive.

There are a wide array of rusty, unused weapons that are kept in the warehouse. A bow and a row of quivers are that which catch my mind first. I grab the strongest looking bow and three quivers, knowing full well that I will not be able to gather any shot arrows if I do encounter anybody. There is also a beautiful sword propped up on the wall just below the light from the windows, too high for any human to reach. The silver hilt is ornately crafted and the blade, though probably not polished for years, remains a wickedly sharp edge. I pile up a few of the crates and scavenge the sword as well. Up close, I notice that there is a small moon carved into the sword's hilt, matching up almost exactly with the scar on my hand. _Almost as if the sword was crafted for me, _I smile happily.

My heart lurches when I hear the loud shouts not far away. _The guards, _I panic, _dammit. _I need to escape through the window, but I will have to move all of the crates closer to the wall so I can push myself through the window.

I desperately scrabble together the crates, pushing them over to the opposite wall. The guards have, apparently, already checked my living quarters and are in need of weapons. _Fuck_. They have reached the warehouse door and are fumbling at the lock.

I run over to the wooden door, grabbing a rusty gun off of the wall near my head, and just as the first guard manages to step in, I bring the barrel of the gun down on his head as hard as I possibly can. The first guard grunts and sinks to the ground, unconscious, just in front of my feet.

Before I can even react or scream, the second guard has grabbed me in his paws, claws at my neck. My skin is punctured by his claws, and the other hand slaps my right cheek. All I can see are stars for the next couple of seconds. "Impudent WRENCH!" The beast spits in my face.

I gladly repay him the favor.

He roars, reaching up to wipe the spit that reached his eyes, and I take this opportunity to kick him near his pelvis with my metal-capped boots. He howls, completely letting me go, and I push him as hard as I can possibly push a two-hundred pound bear-demon, running out of the warehouse, with all of the weapons I managed to grab.

I am shivering with exhilaration, but I do not stop running until I reach a small stream, not too far from the spring. Shoveling hands of water into my mouth, I drink my fill, knowing full well that I will not be able to find water for a while.

_I do not even know where I am._

God dammit.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

Sometimes-though not often-curiosity gets the better of the Lord Sesshoumaru.

Today, curiosity was manifesting itself as a trip to the prison, against all rules, but regardless, he _was_ the Lord of the Western Lands, and the Akuryo-o would most definitely have to yield to his wishes to gain the alliance of the strongest of the four Lords. Not to mention, what harm was there in visiting a pathetic, grovelling human which could not even read the decree that the Akuryo-o had so recently issued to all of the human camps?

Upon reaching the prison grounds, the Lord's sensitive ears picked up on some shrill noises-too coarse to be the chirp of a bird. Curiosity again getting the better of him-he reminded himself that it was not curiosity but rather duty to the security of his lands-he quickly sought out the source of all the unwanted commotion.

I continue to trudge down the unwalked forest path, making sure I have no followers by shuffling leaves behind my feet and scuffing the dirt to cover up any tracks. I know that I am not far from the prison grounds; after all, the guards could be on my trail again, for all I know. A few kicks and blows to the head are probably just scratches to the average demon.

On the other hand, the scratches down the side of my neck were far from shallow. My blood scent would have probably already attracted many demons, had I not been wondering in some random place in the middle of nowhere.

There is a small shuffle in the leaves behind me, and I quickly snap around. _Have I been followed? _It is only when I feel a blade point pressed against the nape of my neck and a large thud just tail lengths behind me that I realize the guards were right on my trail the whole time.

_Shit._

"Feisty one, aren't you?" The first one, the one I had knocked unconscious with the gun, growled into my ear. He pressed the edge a little deeper into my flesh. Any more pressure and blood would be drawn. "What is your name?"

I am so silent I can hear my skin crawl.

The second demon tells him to forget it, instead, turning to address me. "A little rule," it cackles, "I'm not sure you have heard before..."

"Too late!" The first joins in the brutish laughter. "_Fool_!"

His paw makes its way into the collar of my haori.

"We can do with her however we want know!"

I scream, struggle, kick, bite, scratch, blindly against my captors, and, without hesitation, the blade is brought down on my shoulder.

_Excruciating pain..._

Doubling over in pain, I drop to my knees, begging for mercy. Blood soaks my haori and spatters the face of my captor. "Please," I gasp, "please..."

The pain hurts so badly; I can feel the blood seeping down to my abdomen: warm, sticky. My ear pounds with pain, and my shoulder burns...

"Please..." My voice is so hoarse, I can feel the word scratching its way out of my throat.

And then I realize what I have done:

I begged at the hands of a

vile, disgusting, filthy,

merciless

_demon._

Shrieking, I throw myself at one of the quivers desperately-_anything-_pulling out an arrow. The pain in my shoulder has completely dissipated; only the warmth from my fresh blood remains. The blood courses through my ears; there is so much pressure in my head right now that I can feel it pounding to just be released... Grasping the arrow with my left hand, I point it towards my heart.

"D-don't come any closer." My voice wavers but my hand does not.

_I cannot die by a demon's hands..._

The bear-demon wrenches my arrow from my hand, and the other pulls down the sleeve of my uninjured arm, revealing my skin to the cold wind. I can smell the putrid breath of the demon as his hand moves towards the string of my undershirt, the protector of my decency...and I shut my eyes.

_Mother, Father, Shouta, Kohaku...Somebody..._

_ Come save me... ANYONE!_

_ Please..._

Something warm douses my face. Too afraid to open my eyes, I bring my hand up to my cheek, wiping it away.

When I do, finally, open my eyes, all I see is the crimson of fresh blood.

_Who?_

"K-Kohaku?"

The mysterious figure tosses aside the corpse of the second demon, giving his wicked sword a shake to clear it of the filthy demon blood. The blood spatters to the leafy ground.

_Regal robes, white hair_.

A nightmare come true...

_Golden eyes._

I scream, the pain in my shoulder finally absorbing my vision and my senses.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

The girl has woken, thankfully; finally Lord Sesshoumaru could finally put her down. He did not mind carrying her, nor was she heavy at all-rather light, and petite actually, very warm-he just did not want to run the risk of any of his royal subjects seeing their Lord touching a pathetic human.

The first thing the girl did when she woke was push away the demon Lord. She struggled, just as she had in the forest that day, beating against his chest and spitting in his face.

"Vile... filthy... disgusting... demon," her face contorted in pain. Lord Sesshoumaru could smell fresh blood again-her wound had opened up in her struggle. "Don't touch me!"

He let go of her.

"Y-you...how dare you..." The girl quickly scrambled to her feet.

Lord Sesshoumaru was too busy damming the old blacksmith Totosai for taking so long with the repairs for Tenseiga. He needed to get the girl to a place to treat her wounds quickly...

"Take me back to my home." Her voice was brisk, almost as sharp as the Lord's Bakusaiga, and stung his flesh just as similarly.

She pointed a wavering finger at the Lord.

"Were you the one who ordered those...captors...to..."

Now, in his long life of nearly two millennia, the Lord Sesshoumaru had never dealt with such impudent behavior: being spat on, being pointed at like a deformed creature... He was strangely intrigued.

But this _human_ girl must know her place.

The Lord Sesshoumaru quickly knocked aside her hand, staring into her eyes and calmly stating, "do you have any idea who you are addressing right now, ignorant human?"

The girl glared, trying to hide her wince at the pain in her newly opened wound.

"I am Lord Sesshoumaru, Protector of the Western Lands."

He paused, savoring the moment. "Never have I ever been so rudely addressed."

Lord Sesshoumaru stepped closer to the girl, so close that he could almost smell her scent, mixed with the musky smell of blood and sweat. There was a faint underlying scent of fear, to which the Lord scoffed.

He could hear her heavy breathing, feel her heart racing in her rib cage, mere inches from his heart, and he reached out, picking her up carefully.

"You need treatment for your shoulder." He said calmly. "Do not worry, I have no need for human blood on my lands. I will not hurt you."

The Lord tried to ignore the strange twist in his chest when he felt a slap against his face. It was a pathetic slap, hardly doing any damage to his unmarred skin, but truly dented his pride. And the Lord had seen the bloody hand coming towards his face for a while, and could have easily dodged it if he had wanted to, but...

He pinned her hands against her chest to prevent any future struggle-it would only reopen her wound-and headed off to General Akihito. His wife, Lady Airi, was well-known around his lands for her benevolence and her healing abilities. The Lord Sesshoumaru knew that, with an offering of his protection and his alliance, the greedy Akihito would gladly accept the job of caring for a human-even if it meant risking his gluttonous, wasteful life if the Akuryo-o found out.

The Lord Sesshoumaru could feel the girl's warm blood seeping through his thick haori. Her quick, shallow breathing signalled to him that she had floated into unconsciousness again. The Lord felt something he had not felt in a ridiculously long time: panic. His heart pulsed irregularly and his legs shook, something he had not experienced since his father passed away.

_You fool, _he cursed, _why waste your worry on such a weak human..._

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He left the girl in the General's house.

She looked so _peaceful_ when the lady came to move her up to her room, her hair fanning out underneath her shoulders and her red lips, slightly open as she breathed heavily. Her name, the General had asked for it, and Sesshoumaru had not given the answer. "Call her Rina." And that was that.

Sesshoumaru never truly trusted the General since his last betrayal and alliance with Naraku, Lord of the Southern Lands and Sesshoumaru's largest rival. But his wife, Lady Airi, beautiful as everyone always claimed, was never one to turn down an injured being-demon or not.

At first, the General had adamantly refused to harbor a _human_, knowing full well that his life span could be shortened by centuries worth if word got out about this deceit. It took hours of negotiation with the Lord Sesshoumaru to come to an agreement: Lord Sesshoumaru would no longer be able to see this human girl and must offer full-time protection, with some of his finest guards, to the Akihito palace in case an attack or raid should be made and the discovery of a human in the palace was leaked. And with one quick handshake, the deal was settled.

Sesshoumaru was moved to a guest room, since negotiations had taken up until deep into the night and travel during nighttime would be unsightly for such a noble Lord. The human girl was taken to her own room, her brown eyes still closed and her breaths still coming in rasping gasps. Sesshoumaru knew that he needed to say just one more thing to her.

He would do so after the Lady and her attendants finished treating the girl.

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Sitting on his futon, Lord Sesshoumaru asked himself a question he had been avoiding since his first encounter with this human girl. _Why?_

Just one simple word could throw his regal world into black chaos.

_Why?_ Why what? Why did he keep trying to follow her? Why did he want to know more about this human girl when there were thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, of other human girls just like her? _Why did she spark such an immediate need within the Lord, a feeling that he needed to hear her story?_

And most of all, why was he thinking about a human?

Lord Sesshoumaru was never one to purposely break rules. He knew his bounds, he knew his elders and he knew to respect them. So why, why was he making an exception, a gamble with his life, to ensure that this human girl was safe, unharmed?

She _intrigued _him.

Her scent, her tears, her frenzied refusal of acknowledging his presence.

He had never met anyone like her before.

The Lord rubbed his temples. It was getting late. He heard the lady walk past his bedroom door, and he knew that he had to go.

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It was deep into the night when I woke. The pain in my shoulder was still ringing; my entire body was stiff with pain, my head pounded steadily with my heart.

My blood had already seeped through the bandages on my shoulder, and the room stank with the pungent smell of blood. Shifting my weight, I try to stand, my legs too weak to support myself. I need to go. I need to go _home._

I crawl around on the cold wooden floor, feeling around on the ground for my things. I can hardly see a thing, all of the shapes in my eyes blurred with the crust of sleep and the medicines I must have been treated with. Desperately, I search for the sword that I had stolen from the warehouse... The sword, I panic.

I find my bow and quiver on the floor, propped up near the sword. It takes a long time to strap the quiver over my uninjured shoulder-it feels so awkward, but it has to do-and tuck the sword into my bloodied sash because my fingers are stiff with sleep. I quietly slide open the door, stepping out into the cold night air, the wind knocked out of my lungs as I feel the strong wind strike my face.

I barely make it three steps before my vision fails again. _Damn the drugs they gave me. _The figures swarm around in front of me; I cannot see where I am anymore, so I grasp onto the wall, trying to steady myself until this dose of drowsiness ebbs away.

"Where are you going." It is not a question.

The soft voice sounded so familiar... It was so pleasantly rich and commanding.

"Kohaku?" I whisper, heart pounding.

_Kohaku?_

The name of that human boy?

Lord Sesshoumaru's heart sank. Did they give her too many painkillers? Perhaps she could not see clearly in the night? The Lord reached out, trying to steady the girl, and then he, Lord Sesshoumaru, was taken completely by surprise.

The girl hugged him.

She clung unto his haori like he was the last thing in her world, crying into his chest and burying her face into his clothes. Her head barely reached the middle of his chest; she was like a pathetic, delicate child, crying with no abandon.

And this was when everything became clear to Lord Sesshoumaru. This girl, this pathetic, grovelling, sniffling human girl, had managed to grab his heart from beneath his steely armor and wrench it from its hinges... Her vulnerability, but her steadfastness, her salty tears and her soft scent, the Lord knew it all.

He knew it all, but he _could not have it..._

"I am not..." Lord Sesshoumaru whispered, his heart slowly breaking into a million irreparable shards.

The girl broke away from him, looking directly into his amber eyes. The Lord was too afraid to look back into her large brown ones. He prayed that she was looking at him like she knew exactly who he was. Not that foul human boy, but the demon whom she was risking her life to be with...

Of course not.

Shock registered in her large brown eyes, and she immediately backed away, fear and anger radiating from her small body. She turned away to flee, panic heavy on her scent.

And then the Lord did something that he had never known he was capable of doing. He grabbed her uninjured arm, turned her around quickly and stated stoically, mere inches from her face,_ "I am Lord Sesshoumaru_, Protector of the Western Lands."

She had mistaken him for that rude human boy. Lord Sesshoumaru did not know how to feel about the confusion.

"_Never_ have I ever been so _rudely_ addressed."

And then he pressed her against his chest, not allowing her any time for a livid reaction, and hugged her like he had never hugged anyone before. She was warm and tiny, a perfect fit against the Lord's large frame. He could feel her heart racing against his chest, and her struggle was much weaker because of her injuries. Soon she gave up the struggle all together.

It was only when the palace gong rang again to signal midnight that Lord Sesshoumaru remembered his place and let her go.

And in her soft, honey voice, the human girl said shakingly, "y-you are going to get us killed." She turned her head away, taking in a deep breath.

"And there is _nothing_ more in the world that I hate more than ruthless, filthy, vile demons."

Lord Sesshoumaru's heart lurched as she pried herself away from him and ran into the gaping jaws of the dark hallway.

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That night after his return from the Akihito palace, blood still stained on his white haori, Lord Sesshoumaru drank sake like he would never be able to drink again. His senses were dulled, his head hurt, but he knew he could not, like the puny humans, ever become "drunk". He would only experience discomfort, and the Lord was desiring exactly that discomfort tonight to take his mind off of less pleasant things.

He forced his servants to drink with him; what was the fun in drinking sake alone? And it was only when the smallest servant, perhaps not more than five decades, first to lose his senses altogether, suggested the most stupefying thing that the Lord had heard in nearly a century.

"Our Lord Sesshoooumaru," his words were slurred, "can get alllllmost every woman in the country." He laughed, banging his fist on the table. "Can he not?"

The others shifted nervously in their seats.

The impudent servant stood up quickly, knocking his chair over.

"The only thing I would like to seeeeeee is," he swallowed, a wicked grin on his wolfish face, "whether or not he can have a human girl fall in love with him."

The other servants gaped, some nodded in approval, and others, horrified, quickly backed up. At this, the Lord smashed the sake bottle on the ground and delivered a quick fist to the small demon's ear, scattering the rest of the servants.

"I'll make you wish you _never_ spoke those words, you dirty fool," he whispered into the unconscious demon's ears.

He tossed a lock of sleek, black hair on the ground, sure to step on it as he exited the room.

_Filthy human girl._

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Lord Akihito is a large, balding man, old enough to be my father. The Lady is nice, though it is apparent every time she sees me that she does not want me here. She was the one who suggested I live in the previously-fired maid's compartment, which had not been inhabited in a decade. (Of course, a decade passes as no time for a demon, but it definitely was enough time for the wood around the windows to rot from the growing fold and for cobwebs to tangle themselves in every square inch of the room.)

I had nothing to move in anyways: no clothes, no bags, only the few weapons that the Lord Sesshoumaru had picked up when he brought me here. The bow and quiver, along with the beautiful sword, which I will teach myself to use once my shoulder has healed a little bit more.

_I'm surrounded by demons. _

I bite my lip every time this thought comes to mind, reminding myself that I must put up with this until I can somehow find a perfect time to escape back to the human borders. I must first orient myself with my location within the demon lands and wait for my body to heal. The scars on my neck do not appear as if they will be disappearing anytime soon.

The first day in this house, I cut my hair. It was getting too long for my taste, and even beginning to appear uneven, especially on the left side, where one of the demons probably had lopped off my hair in the scuffle. Now it hung loosely from my head, just above my chin, and I no longer put it up with a ribbon anymore.

The other maids often drop my near my compartment, calling me only by the name "human girl", gossipping about the Lord Sesshoumaru, who apparently visits every week. I suppose these visits must do with the negotiations about my hiding place, and he has not come to see me, thankfully. The maids never talk directly to me, fearing for their lives themselves, and I do not blame them. I would rather avoid encounters with them as well.

Furthermore, I avoid the main palace as much as possible, taking my baths in the old river near the water-well, only going when I am summoned to clean or help setup the main hall for any distinguished guests.

The General often summons me to his room at night, when nobody is near, to do minor errands such as making tea or setting out his clothes to dry. It is often very uncomfortable, and he only calls for me whenever the Lady Airi is not around in their chambers. This leads to much bickering from the maids, whom all fight for the Lord's attention, only serving to further ostracize me from them. It has gotten worse since Lady Airi was summoned by the Lord of the Eastern Lands to help train a young maid in the royal palace in her ways of healing. She will not be back for nearly two months, and I must avoid the main hall at all costs.

It can never hurt to always be ready.

My presence is covered up by the other maids, who spray me with a strange perfume that the Lady has procured. It is only to cover up my human scent and disguise me with a filthier demon scent. The perfume smells like raw ginger and makes my nose burn and itch.

Sometimes, even tears randomly come to my eyes.

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The Lord Sesshoumaru had been "courting", or at least that was what all of the others in his castle called it, the fine Lady Kagura for nearly a month now. She was a wind demoness, and quite skilled at fighting in fact, and her feisty attitude immediately caught the Lord's attention. In a strange way, he mused, she reminded him of that human...the little girl whom he was now going, with Lady Kagura, to check on. Of course, Kagura did not yet know about this human girl, nor would she ever know if the Lord had his way, and they were visiting the General Akihito under the pretext of a new offering of land in return for his services for border patrol.

Upon his arrival at the General's palace, the Lord caught wind of the same delicate scent, slightly masked with a more distasteful one and this time without fear, wafting on the wind. The scent reminded him of the water lily, and immediately, his body stiffened. Lady Kagura did not catch onto anything, and the Lord quickly relaxed, remembering that only he, a dog demon, would be able to detect such a scent through the strange smells of the palace. The scent was coming from his left, on the same side that Kagura was standing on, and he forced himself to keep his head straight until the General came to greet them.

"Ah! The distinguished Lord Sesshoumaru! And beautiful Lady Kagura!" The fat demon waved his arms. "Please sit."

General Akihito put an arm around the Lord, and directed them to the large hall with a beautiful dining table. The proximity made the Lord uncomfortable, but another thing made his blood boil.

The fat demon's scent... It was strong with the sweet scent of the human girl...

_Had something happened when he was gone?_

The thought of the old general touching his human girl made his head spin.

Lord Sesshoumaru briskly pushed away the General, turning to Lady Kagura. "Our hostess, Lady Airi, will show you to our room. I will go there after I finish discussing," he turned to give the General a steely stare, "_very important things_ with our kind host."

Lady Kagura placed a small kiss on the Lord's cheek, making a big deal before the maids who had previously been giggling since the arrival of the handsome Lord, before letting the attendants lead her to their room. As soon as she left, Lord Sesshoumaru turned to his left, scanning the row of remaining maids for the human girl.

There she was, standing behind the others, her small, heart-shaped face, turned away from him. _Had she seen Lady Kagura? Was this why she was avoiding his gaze? _The Lord found himself immediately tensing, staring directly into her face, delighting at the response she gave when she turned and saw him gazing right at her. The blush that flew to her cheeks and the bitter expression in her large brown eyes... she was beautiful.

She was his _drug._

And it was then when, realizing that those nights of downing sake with the servants and taking other women with him to his chambers had only made him more desperate to see her, he began walking to her, something he had promised to himself he would never do, even if his life depended on it.

_How could the Lord of the Western Lands approach a convict human girl?_

This question did not float to his mind this time as it had the others times he had visited. He had forced himself to remain away from the girl's room during his previous visits after the first, though he only wanted a glimpse at her and how she was doing; it tore at him from the insides every time, and now he knew how he was going to be healed.

Her sleek hair was not fastened in a tie behind the nape of her neck as he had remembered; it instead fanned against her cheeks, cut with a straight edge. She wore the red uniform of the other maids, but for some reason hers seemed to be much more radiant than the rest, and though she wore no makeup, her face seemed the most delicate of them all. The girl's eyes kept avoiding his, and his heart raced against his steel armor...

The Lord stopped in his tracks.

Her eyes were red, now that he had gotten close enough to see her face more clearly. And, almost hidden beneath the collar of her haori, he saw finger-shaped bruises, just around her collarbone. The girl kept her head turned to try to hide her puffy, bloodshot eyes.

_Was she crying? _

Who _dared_ attempt to hurt her? Those bruises around her neck, Lord Sesshoumaru vowed that he would kill whichever demon had dared touch her.

He pushed aside the maids standing in front of the girl, finally coming before again. It had been so long since he had been this close to her, and her scent-_her _scent, not the disgusting perfume they had put on her-was overwhelming.

He reached out to brush her soft hair out of her eyes, and as soon as she lifted her eyes up off of the ground, giving a blisteringly hatred-filled stare, she turned and stalked out of the hall, leaving the Lord of the Western Lands standing alone, again, bewildered and completely lost.

This was something that not even the most powerful demons had ever managed to do.

* * *

><p><em>Well that was a long chapter! Sorry if things seemed a little rushed or Sesshoumaru seemed super OOC. I'm not sure how I can bring the major plot points together, and sometimes I just end up rushing through important parts :\ Please read, critique, review, etc. (I'm really considering redoing this chapter sometime in the near vicinity)<em>

_Also, I apologize for the long update time. These past few weeks have been ridiculous, but who likes to hear excuses. :D_

_Thanks_

_Lily_


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